Searching for Soul
by The Humble Mosquito
Summary: Novel, in early stages, that is set a year after The Opal Deception. Centers around the totalitarian regime of Ark Sool. [LARGELY INACTIVE]The only way this will get updated is if someone comes along with a desperate desire to edit it. Poor!
1. Breaking the Preverbial Prison

**Breaking the Proverbial Prison **

Perhaps, one might argue, it would be slightly absurd for someone to turn from the, admittedly already rather ludicrous, life of a teenage criminal mastermind to not that of, only a law abiding existence but to one that embodied the characters of the, well, the non existent stereotypical, "nice guy," kind of adolescent that so many idealistic parents long to have in their charge. But, Artemis Fowl had done this very thing. (Though, to be fair, your average contemporary idealistic parent would probably be slightly concerned if their youth started to resemble young Artemis. In fact, it would be reasonable to speculate that their mental health would decline at a rate faster than that of Holly Short's _imaginary,_ drink-driving, clone as she piloted an _imaginary_ shuttle down E7. And that, to coin a phrase, is saying something.)

Artemis had mellowed. It was a sad reality, but maybe one which was best for those who would come across him. He was no longer seeking the thrills, nor the scrapes, that for the last few years earlier had been present in the escapades that had so poignantly highlighted his existence to the people; Artemis had not lost his natural cheek, nor his stunning intellect he had just lacked the motivation, the will-power and the circumstances to demonstrate them to the rest of the world. It had been around a year since Artemis and Butler had last come face to face with their comrades down below; a year since their well respected associate: the brave, Commander Julius Root had perished at the hands of Opal Koboi. More than that, it had been 5 months – 5 months 1 week 3 days 3 hours 27 minutes to Artemis's degree of accuracy - since he had been contacted by Holly, or the dwarf Mulch Diggums. He had agreed to aid them on a "consultancy" basis and was, reluctantly, prepared to accept the remotest of possibilities that his services simply had not been required for whatever reason. But, what he was most certainly not able to accept, was the idea that two people, who had become his best – his only – friends were not even willing to spare five minutes of their time for him.

He had mused the possibility that the communication device Holly had provided him was defective. No, he had examined, expertly, every millimetre of magical circuitry within the device. _Perhaps, Sool has, somehow, found out that they were working with me and has put a stop to it. _It was possible, but he felt the man's ignorance would never allow him to make such an accurate deduction.

There was only one thing for it; there was no good moping around doing no sin but doing no good… He would have to rediscover himself; he would have to bring the adventures to him; he would have to bring the people to him. He would have to bring himself to Holly, Holly and Mulch.

Artemis always used to find high-level Mathematics a casual endeavour; there was a certain satisfaction to solving complex formulas that the worlds most established Mathematical minds did not even dare to attempt. But ST Bartleby's maths department, like all its other departments, lacked a certain magic. It was all very well doing difficult trigonometry at the age of 3, but "cos 24" didn't exactly stimulate him anymore. However, today he was not giving his full attention to completing the laughable university level textbook that Mr Franks, his "teacher," had, begrudgingly, supplied him with; today he was watching the clock – Butler was late. His bodyguard had agreed 2.20 pm – it was now 2.22 pm, most unsatisfactory Artemis would have to have a word with his most trusted associate about time keeping. The door flung open, Artemis stood up, casually making for the door, collecting his belongings as he went. - Pretending to ignore the scuffle between 4 teachers, 3 grounds men and Butler. The seven men, reasonably well built by most people's standards, were all clinging on to various, extremities. Artemis strode across the room, apparently oblivious to the stunned, confused and entertained faces of his classmates. When he finally reached the entrance to the rectangular prison he mimicked brushing off invisible dirt from his pristine school uniform, _still_ ignoring the fight, and turned, smiling, to, an open mouthed, Mr Franks, "It's been err… a pleasure. Most enlightening, indeed… By the way, in case you were wondering, x equals 17.476." He added glancing quickly at the equation Mr Franks had been in the process of writing upon the flash new electronic white board.

"Now, gentleman," He began. - At last acknowledging the wails of the staff members who had always been fighting a losing battle to stop Butler gaining access to the classroom. "If you would kindly remove yourselves from my bodyguard, I will be on my way. I do no want him damaged." - It was difficult to tell if he was joking.

"And, if he is, I will be sending you the bill." He added.

Butler looked disapprovingly at him – Artemis may have faded but his arrogance had remained very much intact. But, nonetheless, he kicked the final irritant, deputy head teacher Smith, away from his left ankle. "Oh, my belated Prince Charming, so you've finally decided to come and rescue me have you? I make you two minutes and twenty three seconds late." Butler was genuinely offended.

"Nonsense, I am on time to the second; I even took into account, when making my calculations, how long these flies would slow me down so that I could make my dramatic entrance at _exactly_ twenty past." He lowered his wrist into Artemis's eye line.

"Well, in future, we are synchronising watches," Artemis replied. (In a tone, which implied that he was non-to happy about conceding.)

"Fine. So how is my favourite Damsel in distress?" Artemis was worried; Butler had developed a wit. There would be time for worrying about that later. For now, his own needed exercising.

"Later Butler, later. Now, goodbye, goodbye, my good educators. You possess little of my fondness, but my, sadly, money you have."

He had the whole room's attention and was looking down at the crumpled pile of St Bartleby's teaching staff, which Butler had carelessly splattered upon the cliché hairy pink carpet that all British schools seem to have fitted, for no apparent reason. He waved a hand in the air, in a way that mocked the ceremonial potential of the situation, and addressed the body of the room. "Farewell, my classmates; farewell St Bartleby's." As he strode out, down the corridor, amidst the instinctive incessant chanting of his peers (_"Farewell, Artemis,") _and,amidst the approaching sirens of police cars, Artemis smiled to himself, in the recycled Irish air.

He was out, and he was bubbling with ideas. He thought fondly, sadly, of Holly, Mulch and Foaly who he hoped to soon fall his gaze upon, and Julius – who he wouldn't.

The people beware: Artemis Fowl is back, and he's coming… 


	2. Jumping for Love

"Artemis, are you sure this is a good idea,"

"Well, usually, I would make some reassuring gesture to remind you of my extreme intelligence and, thus, letting you know that I have weighed up all the probabilities and have, of course, come to the conclusion that this course of action is, definitely, a "_good idea._" However, in this case, if I were to make such a gesture, it would be implying something dishonest; I have not even formulated a plan, let alone calculated the odds of its success. So no Butler, I'm not sure, not at all. – Sorry." Butler looked, briefly, over at Artemis, blinked once, said nothing, and then unceremoniously returned his attention to the road.

In reality, Artemis had begun his planning but he had been entirely truthful in saying that it was not yet complete, nowhere near in fact. The young genius had, however, already managed to give himself some key strategic advantages. Firstly, and most crucially, timing: Artemis had chosen to flee St Bartleby's at the beginning of his parents trip to Venezuela (where, with their new found generous spirit, they were aiding the local peasants – the kind of idealism that, not too long ago, Artemis would have considered inexcusable) His plan was that, within this two week window of opportunity, he would make contact with Holly, Mulch and Foaly, during this period his school would have no way to contact his parents and that if before the end of it he returned before his parents, the school would, hopefully, be inclined not to let them know of his escape and subsequent disappearance – such a disappearance would probably lose them the Fowl's custom. Secondly, he had arranged with Juliet, Butler's sister, that she would be handling all the Fowl's affairs in Ireland while Artemis and Butler were away.

"Um … Master Fowl…" Artemis breathed out a, carefully placed, sigh. – He did not like his plotting to be interrupted.

"Yes, my dearest, in fact, my _only_, charge."

"Where exactly, am I supposed to be taking this baby to?" He said, stroking the steering wheel of the Fowl's brand new Mercedes'. Artemis groaned. Loudly.

"Butler, please. You are not, as far as I am aware, in a, small budget, B – movie. Nor, thankfully, are you a 17-year-old adolescent taking a test drive in your first car. And, as such, _Domonvoi_, I will ask you to _drive_ this _vehicle_ to our not so humble abode." Butler winced at the use of his first name, but regained his composure quickly.

"Right, Fowl Manor, it is." Butler paused, "… _Arty_"

Artemis could not help but smile back at the cheeky grin that was now upon his companion's face. Then the horns of a thousand frustrated commuters brought them the temporary surrealists out of their daze.

"Butler, I believe it is convention to bring the car into motion once the light has gone green."

Impatience. It is one of the few features of intellectual brilliance that could actually annoy Artemis. During their three hour drive from St Barteby's Artemis had complied an extensive mental list of everything they would be likely to need. He disliked the imprecision of the word "likely," but circumstance, he had found, makes its own dictations. He was currently waiting for Butler, who had received a copy of the aforementioned list in the form of the latest electronic notepad, was taking a long time. Well, actually, he had up till now, taken only 4 minutes. But, by Artemis' s calculations it should only have taken between two and half to three and a half – if he had taken the most efficient route between items, of course. Within the crunchy, stony grounds of mansion's car park Artemis was fidgeting. He was perfectly able to meditate when travelling, he was making progress then, but this waiting was really getting to him. Every second Butler spent looking for basic weaponry and stealth equipment was a second lost that could have been spent looking for, or, even better, looking _at,_ his magical friends. He poked his head out of the window and yelled out in a very insincere crossness at Butler, who was embracing a stubborn looking Juliet in a bear hug, "Butler, if you don't mind we have places to go and people to see…" The cliché reprimand faded out faster than it had begun; _how could I possibly deny Butler his good-bye_ _to his sister?_ After all, she hadn't exactly been happy that, once again, Artemis was asking her to mind the metaphorical fort. Butler opened the driver's door, sat down and closed it again in one movement,

"Sorry, Artemis." It was as insincere as the accusatory clause that had been its cause. Artemis entirely understood how much demand the last few years episodes had placed upon him and felt _that_ feeling, that feeling that had been occurring all to regularly when in contact with Short and the others: guilt. So he merely shrugged. It was a sign of how much time they had spent together that two words and a bodily gesture could convey so much. The fact was that there was huge sadness between both their eyes, there was a great urge to open up to each other to express their mutual loneliness, their combined context had led to little companionship, other than each other. Despite their frequent contact they had missed each other during Artemis's spell at St Barteby's – during his time there they had both diminished as characters. It was relief to be together again but, at the same time, it was a blunt reminder of how much they relied upon each other. Worryingly, for the second time in a matter of hours, Artemis found he was gazing into Butler's familiar black eyes and, for the second time it was he who broke the most comfortable of silences.

"Lets go find our souls, Butler. "

"Yes, lets. But first, one more thing." Began the bodyguard.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Where do we look?" He completed, as he pulled out onto the picturesque B road that ran along side of the manor.

"Ah, Butler, the beauty of memory." Artemis explained, "One of the advantages of not being mind wiped"

Butler was tired, very tired. He used to have the stamina of an elite marathon runner, but this was no longer the case. Also, he was confused. Artemis had had them travelling almost non-stop since leaving the Maths lesson at St Barteby. He had flown for 4 hours, got straight off of the plane, attended to their business, driven the hired car to here (here being somewhere in Portugal) and then Artemis had instructed the jet-lagged servant to hack though numerous bushes and trees, and to dig through infinite amounts of mud and rock. So Butler, the loyal man that he is, had obliged; he hacked and dug his way through bush, tree, mud and rock for almost three and a half hours. Now, finally, he had unveiled, Master Fowl's great plan: A, very dark, very long, very menacing chute, which, almost certainly, belonged to the People. Butler had a nagging suspicion that whatever was coming next would not involve going back to the hotel for a sleep. Sometimes Butler wondered if his purpose in life would always be to serve, it was for most Butlers and, increasingly, Artemis had been using him in servant like ways, but he decided to put this thought to one side and find out what the next phase of Artemis's latest scheme was.

"Now what?" It was two words that conveyed a lot of complex feelings that someone as intuitive as Artemis could pick up, however, he chose to ignore them and give a straight answer.

"Now, Butler, we jump." He waited for the dramatic response, and he got it.

"Jump, what do you mean we jump? - This thing stretches down thousands of miles below the earths surface."

"Oh, Butler, I didn't realise; I though it was simply a rabbit hole. Lets go home then." The sarcasm would have been evident to a three-year-old. But Butler had never in his life been less amused.

"Artemis, I have followed you through thick and thin, but you've got a screw loose. This is our lives you want to throw away, I would take a bullet for you Artemis; I _have _taken a bullet for you Artemis but for a worthy cause. I know the last few months have been difficult but this is stupid." Artemis considered his response carefully, this wasn't, after all, the most watertight plan he had ever come with and maybe his judgement _was_ being clouded by loneliness. But the odds weregood.

"Have I ever failed you Butler?"

"Artemis…"

"There have been times, before where you have thought I was crazy. Were there not? You even doubted the existence of fairies, didn't you? I will not lead you astray of that, you have my word. - If you trust me you will follow." And then, Artemis Fowl The Second – one of the finest minds in human history – jumped It was one of the most uncharacteristic decisions of his entire life.

_This is_ _beyond foolish; this is suicidal. _Butler thought, as he sprung into his chosen abyss. As he began to fall he muttered 5 words of great meaning, which echoed around the potential tomb, far enough _just_ for Artemis to hear them.

"Only because I love you."


	3. Catch a Falling Star

The worst kind of genius is definitely a miserable genius; the technical wizard Foaly _was _currently a miserable genius. – In fact, as he recalled the last year's events, it would not be unreasonable to go as far as to say Foaly was probably the _most _miserable genius under the world. (Well, in the top two, anyway.)

In the last few months his two best friends had been imprisoned, he had become totally out of favour in his occupation and the society of justice, prosperity, tolerance and relative peace, to which he belonged and had contributed so much towards was being ruined, by the totalitarian regime of Ark Sool, who was unjustly in control of everything and anything.

The rise to power of this merciless man had taken only twelve short months and had been reminiscent of some of the worst dictators in fairy history. Almost a year ago Sool, somewhat dubiously, inherited control of LEPrecon (Lower Elements Police Reconnaissance) from the great Julius Root, he immediately stamped his authority, preaching the message of keeping Haven "safe" from "outside influences" i.e. keeping mud men, like Artemis Fowl, away… for ever. This message proved popular with Haven's corruptible citizens and, when the LEP's commander-in-chief was killed in very suspicious circumstances (a freak accident where Rupert Lambert - somehow managed to burn to death in Foaly's supposedly fire-proof blazer – Foaly lost a large clothing budget for this, not to mention a lot of credibility,) Sool was the only, politically correct, man for the job and so naturally he got it. From this, illustrious, position, he was able to spread his isolationist propaganda; there were numerous unsubstantiated claims of Mud men infiltrating, and living among, the fairy people and exaggerated stories of close scrapes with intelligence agencies such as the NSA and MI6. When, a further two months on, the council elections came up Sool stood as a surprise candidate winning the hearts and minds of fairies who lapped up his paranoia and, thus, ensured him a landslide victory. Within days, he reformed the LEP into his own witch hunting force, within a week he was using the media to invent mud man related stories, within two he declared a state of Marshall-Law, and within a month, his private force he was persecuting and ultimately imprisoning anyone thought to be sympathetic toward the Mud Men, or anyone he pleased – the first being the, horrified, Holly Short and Mulch Diggums. In Foaly's eyes, Haven had gone crazy; there were reports of random beatings anywhere and everywhere with the excuse, "He looked at me like a Mud Man would," now being deemed acceptable. Haven was in directed anarchy; Haven was a dictatorship.

Foaly's position was untenable. It was relatively common knowledge that Foaly, whilst being a little reclusive from the outside world himself, was very sceptical of Sool, in fact, he despised him; He _hated_ him - with a passion, unbecoming of the cynical centaur. He had been delivering secret messages to the likes of Holly and organising sabotages for the small resistance cell that had been formed in the hope of causing an uprising against Sool. In truth though, the group lacked any true direction, inspiration or leadership that someone like Holly Short could provide. All the people likely to get heavily involved were either already imprisoned or worse. As a result, the rebellion was being crushed quicker than it had begun; its twenty or so members had all been rounded up with nonchalant ease - like sheep, encountering the most competent of Border Colliers. With Sool granting the LEP (now nicknamed the LEB – Lower Elements Bullies) "emergency powers" to root out the " despicable terrorists that are such a plague upon society." It was only a matter of time before a naïve, young, idealist gave into the highest setting on the buzz baton, and then it would not be long before a hard nosed retrieval officer would come knocking on Foaly's and, after that, he was as good as dog meat. (Not that fairies have dogs.)

_No, I will have to get out, and soon. _

Foaly had made a conscious decision: today would be his last day in service for the LEP; he would go into hiding. He was not planning to give any notice, technically he was a civilian, after all and he had no goodbyes to make – there was no one still in the LEP who he had any respect left for, except maybe Trouble Kelp.

He did feel a little singe of guilt at deserting the sinking ship; he imagined the quip that Julius would have undoubtedly made were he there.

"That's it, old donkey, go find some synthetic, grassy, field to graze in for the next 50 years; don't worry about us, you go have some hay."

Foaly's imagination was so real he almost began his own retort.

Something blipped on his sensors, an anomaly in one of the estuaries. There were hundreds of these so called feeder tunnels; they were built for easy access to some key, but obscure, locations above ground (when shielded flight to other aboveground detinations from the big terminals, like Tara, wasn't possible.) This particular estuary ran alongside and in-between a few of the upper forts until finally feeding into the huge H19 chute. Foaly looked up at the 3D projected diagram of the tunnel network that was floating above his desk; he noted two things about the estuary. Firstly, as well as being narrow (as is the nature of the estuaries) it was one of the straightest tunnels around, barely a kink in the whole thing, secondly it originated along the south coast of Portugal. Foaly sighed; one more job wouldn't hurt. He activated one of the high-resolution cameras in the chute - _every _tunnelwas now equipped with at least four of Foaly's high-tech looking windows. - He couldn't help but smile proudly at this particular thought. What he could make out from the first camera was just two specks, unidentifiable at the current angle. Foaly changed the camera. Voila! He had a much better view now. There were two individuals, falling through the wide shot of the device's lens, both assuming the correct, professional, diving position to minimise their velocity. It was two males. Humans! One adult and one child. Foaly was definitely interested now. He zoomed in to complete the picture. And there, rather paled, but with the same intense brilliance radiating from his bones was Artemis Fowl and, next to him, the massive bulk of muscle that is, the admittedly a little aged, Butler. Foaly's pulse was racing but, almost instantaneously, the imminent death of his past counterparts occurred to him. What could he do? He quickly looked skimmed his tunnel schematic, looking at the positions of the reds dots representing LEP shuttles. All but one were grouped together at the LEP port. The one belonged to none other than Trouble Kelp, and he was reasonably near H19, as well. Some hope built up in Foaly. He opened a priority line to Kelp.

"Kelp, we have a situation." His voice sounded urgent, but Trouble didn't seem to pick up on it.

"What, Foaly? Some angry demonstrators spill tea on Sool's new jacket or something?" Foaly was not amused.

"No. It's a _serious_ situation; note that I haven't made and smart aleck quips myself. Does that not tell you something?"

"Well, what is it?"

"Are we on a secure line?"

"You designed it." The military man replied

"I meant is anyone we can't trust listening." Snapped Foaly.

"No, but if its rebellion business then you know I'm not interested. I like being neutral, more importantly, I like my neck the way it is."

"Right, whatever." Foaly was talking very quickly now; "Get over to H16 and then to the bottom of the Portuguese estuary."

"Why in Cupid's name would I do that?"

"Just do it; you need to catch something" Foaly was irritated.

"Foaly, you're not helping your case." Kelp retorted, rather smugly.

"Its Artemis Fowl and Butler, they are falling. You've got to catch them!"

"You have got to be kidding me! D'arvit, Foaly, D'arvit! I'll be there in fifty." Foaly hoped with all his might that he meant seconds because they had little more than thirty until Artemis and Butler came crashing into the sides of H16.

"One thing, Foaly what do I do when I get there?"

"You open your upper hatch and then, you earn your money … fly-boy."

"I'm not worried about the fancy flying Foaly; I'm worried about the combination of gravity, and the steel decking that I'm standing on." Foaly thought for a moment, it was a good point.

"Energy absorbers." Foaly announced triumphantly, all to aware that they had around 22 seconds to go.

"What under the earth are you talking about?"

"You should have them in your aft storage lockers, they are like gooey sheets, they were designed as an energy saving measure. As yet, we've only tested them on thermal and electrical energy but they _should_ work on gravitational potential energy." Explained Foaly in a rambled speech. "We have them in both blue and pink." He added - pedantic even in the face of crisis.

"Baines, you heard the horse, get one." The captain barked at a junior officer, "All set Foaly, how long we got?" Foaly ignored the _horse_ comment because of time constraints

"Eleven seconds."

"Right." Kelp acknowledged. Amidst the panic Foaly felt an uncharacteristic urge to be excited. Artemis Fowl was coming, who knows what he could accomplish for the people… " Oh, and Kelp, If you miss … I _will _killyou. I don't know how, but I will." And, at that moment in time, he meant it.


End file.
